


Words We Couldn't Say

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Gen, Married Life, Mentions of Cancer, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-30 00:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Felicity and Donna both have news to share with each other. Tensions are continuing to rise since the two haven't seen one another in year when Donna eloped with Quentin on a cruise without her daughter and son-in-law there. Dynamics among the Smoak, Queen, and Lance family changes with utterances of three life-changing words.





	Words We Couldn't Say

Felicity's black Range Rover comes to a stop after one long meandering road. A heavy sigh escapes her mouth, tension barely lifting off her chest. But Yahweh help her because for once, Oliver is exactly right, they have to tell her. After all, Donna will practically jump for joy at the mere thought of becoming a bubbe. Felicity's eyes dart to the tall reddish brown apartment complex, and Quentin's power blue Dodge Charger. Felicity's fingers twiddle over the car door handle while she bites her lower lip. Just before more vehicles enter the carport, it's clear now. A decision has been made. Orange leaves are carried with a gust of wind as the anxious blonde hacker hears the door close. Thank goodness, Quentin and Donna's place is only two floors up because these gorgeous tan Chanel boots are not made for long walks. Finally, she spots apartment number 19. The toe of her boot brushes against her blue jeans. Her hand balls into a fist to knock at the door, but Felicity's brain doesn't seem to make that connection at the moment.

With another deep breath, Felicity tells herself, "You can do this. You can so totally do this. You have to do this. Come on, Queen, get it over with."

Hinges creak loudly, and from behind the door, a rather stoic Quentin Lance is revealed. The Deputy Mayor forces a warm smile on his lips that it's so very painfully evident.

"Hey, kid. Um... Come in. Come in."

"Thanks."

Quentin looks down at his shoes before checking on his delicious chicken cacciatore. Felicity prefers to stand, no longer feeling welcome in a home she hasn't been in a year.

Seasoning chicken with some fresh cracked black pepper, Quentin breaks the uncomfortable silence between them, "So where is that not-so better half of yours, Felicity?"

She purses her signature red lips, yet can't help but smile anyways.

"He's finishing up a performance review on you." His daughter-in-law jokes, eyes lingering on the older man's husky yellow gold band, "From what I hear, it's _horrible_ and you've done _such_ shoddy paperwork on Rene."

He chuckles, noting the exaggeration in her tone, "Well, then maybe that stubborn recruit of yours should stop calling me, Hoss."

"It's Rene." Felicity points out with an eyebrow raise, "Do you really think he's going to stop with those little nicknames he gives everyone?"

"Nope. Listen about your mom and me, we..."

"Ah, that's water under the bridge now.  The distance between me and mom seems to be more on her end. I just came here today because I have something very important to tell her."

"If things go well between the two of you..." Quentin suggests, rubbing the back of his neck, "Maybe you can stay for dinner. Chicken cacciatore is one of the only few dishes I can make, but I think I do one Hell of a job. It's in the oven right now."

"Thanks." Felicity offers with a genuine grin, "But Oliver's got a nice steak milenesa in the fridge, and we want to have dinner together — just the two of us. He made it himself."

"Mr. Master chef, huh?" Her father-in-law muses, fetching a box from the hall closet.

A unopened pack of tissues. Felicity understands her mother cries when sad or happy, although how had they found out? Did Oliver "Chatty Cathy" Queen spill the beans? Had the read about in the tabloids? As if one cue, Donna emerges from their bedroom in a surprising look, even for her. Usually, the bubbly natural blonde is representative of just that. Her outfits typically consist of garments that are tight, sparky, pink, and well, everything that screams Donna Smoak. Gone is the sass, and in replacement lies a shell of her former self. The navy blue sweats and flat flip flops are simply one indication, something isn't right. Felicity's gaze scoured over every inch of her mother's body. Dark bags shadow underneath her blue eyes. Her physique has clearly grown thinner and more frail, which is made all the more noticeable when Felicity observes Donna's nearly gaunt cheekbones. Her mother is very ill.

"M-mom, mom," Words are on the tip of tongue, but in this moment all she can think of, "What's going on? Oh my God, we need..."

"Felicity, sit down please, and I'll explain everything, baby girl. I promise. Everything's going to be just fine."

That weight in her chest earlier has seemingly multiplied in size, yanking her body down like an anvil to a navy loveseat. Quentin places two glasses of water down for Donna and Felicity.

Quentin announces with a clear of his throat, "Uh, I'll leave you two ladies alone to talk."

Gulping water is the only sound among the tension between mother and daughter. Rightfully so, Felicity's anger has quelled. Concern flits over Felicity's face, lines crinkling deeply in between her eyebrows. Donna moves to hold her daughter's hand, and for the first time in twelve long months, Felicity takes it. She needs to. Hell, they both need to do so. Donna interlaces their slim fingertips, and Felicity's azure eyes connect with her mom's. appearing bluer and sadder than they have before.

"What's... How've you... What do you have, mom?" Felicity dares to ask, struggling to find the right words.

On that note, Donna lowers her navy hoodie, exposing patches of her once full blonde locks.

Her mother confirms, "Cancer."

Tears blur her vision, yet Felicity presses on, "W-what kind?"

"Breast cancer, but baby, it's still treatable they found it at stage two."

For six months, Donna had an abnormal amount of pain in her chest. She thought nothing of it until after a doctor discover what was at first thought to be a benign cyst. Donna is known to have dense breast tissue, so that issue is unfortunately all too common. However as time passed, biopsy results showed cells from that unidentified mass were indeed cancerous. With that diagnosis in mind, Donna told Quentin, and they've since begun a treatment plan.

Blowing her nose, Felicity wonders, "How long have you known?"

"Six months," replies Donna regretfully.

"Six months," her daughter repeats incredulously, "Six months, and you didn't even think to share that enormous news with your own daughter."

Donna exclaims, "I'm sorry, but in case you forgot, kid, we weren't exactly on speaking terms."

"I tried calling, texting, suggesting we do things, but you-you pushed me away for an entire fucking year. I-I could've been there. Oliver and I, we're going to find you the best oncologist we know, and then..."

She requests, "Felicity, hey, hey, hey, Baby, look at me. I don't need that kind of help. Can we just agree that we've both done things wrong?"

With a shaky breath, Felicity concedes, "Yes."

"Okay. You've always been so fiercely independent. I mean, why do you think I was fine with you starting college at sixteen? You should know that I didn't tell you because I didn't want you or Oliver to worry about me. I didn't want to disrupt your life."

"You can never disrupt my life. You are one of the most important parts of it."

Sniffling, Donna counters, "Really?"

While they love each other like crazy, history and attitudes have proven otherwise. Oliver's the who invites Donna and Quentin over for dinners before they got hitch. Before she and Quentin eloped, Oliver was the who call or check in more often. Maybe a part of him is compensating for the mother he and Thea lost, but every aspect of their lives are just so busy. However, that desperately needs to change, starting now.

"Really."

"Well, we're uh..." Donna begins, hands brushing over Felicity's hair, "We're going to get through this, you and me."

She huffs, "Yeah, I know."

Donna and Felicity's eyes fall shut, foreheads touching as they soon pull each other in a tight hug.

"You said you had news to share with me too, Felicity."

"Yeah," Her daughter confesses after a long beat, "I'm pregnant, mom."

"Oh, my gosh!" Tears spring her eyes for an entirely different reason, "I'm going to be a bubbe. See? That's a wonderful reason for me to keep fighting — no matter what. Plus, we Smoak women are too stubborn to die."

"Mama, please don't talk about dying."

"Alright. Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?"

"No, no. Uh, I have to go." Felicity says, getting up, "I have to get home, but I'll call you tomorrow. Okay?"

"Sure."

* * *

 

Felicity bolts out the door like the building's on fire. She can't break down any longer in front of her cancer-striken mother. To be quite honest, she is a little mad still that her mother and Quentin have kept this huge secret from her. With a diagnosis like this, they need to stay close. An array of emotions wash  over Felicity, although her main concern now absolutely needs to be Donna. But then again with a baby on the way, she knows sometimes it can't be. Felicity's never been more scared in her entire life. How can she become a mother without her own mother? She drives about a block before hiding behind some shady trees, shoulders jostling with sobs. Wiping her eyes, she keeps driving until she reaches the bunker's garage. This may be unprecedented for one Felicity Megan Queen, but she doesn't want to talk. No more words. Just feeling. That's it. All she wants to do is get lost in feeling. Pushing those thoughts out of her mind, Felicity steps out of the car.

"Hey," Oliver greets with a soft smile, ceasing his barrage of succinct jabs against a training dummy.

His wife intones, "Hi."

"You've been crying," he observes, wrapping her in his arms on instinct, "The meeting with your mom went that bad. I thought once you two talked again, it would help patch things up."

"It did. It's something else."

"Talk to me, Felicity. Tell me what's going on, so we can fix it."

She laughs bitterly, "Honey, this isn't a problem you or I can fix like that."

"Let's sit down, have some of your favorite hot cocoa, and we can ta..."

Felicity snaps, a little harsher than intended, "I already told you I don't want to talk about it, Oliver."

"Alright, what do you want, Felicity?" He implores, calloused hands drifting over her arms, "What do you need?"

"You," she insists, tears welling her eyes, "I just want you."

Felicity doesn't give her husband a word in edgewise before her mouth is on him. Salty hot tears slip over his face, though they certainly aren't Oliver's own.

Pushing her back gently, he advises, "Honey, stop. We can't, not when you're like this. I'd rather we sit down and..."

"No!" She protests adamantly, "No, I can't. I don't want to."

Perplexed by this, his hands cup her face, "Why not?"

"Because right now I can't go there. I just don't want to be in that place. I just want to feel something different, to get out of my head for a bit, and be with you right here."

He points out, "Baby, we can still..."

" _Oliver, please_."

Despite not being a guy who shares his feelings much, Oliver knows they need to talk about whatever is going with Felicity. He knows they shouldn't have sex when she's in this frame of mind, but her movements are laden with determination, no matter what he thinks. Regardless of every fiber in his being signaling otherwise, their tongues soon engage in a harsh battle for dominance. So much so Oliver's surprised moan practically vibrates against her mouth. His brain, the one that controls the incredible husband-of-the-year side of him knows that he and Felicity should talk first, but his penis and the way she's stroking him so confidently rationalize, if this is what Felicity _wants_ , do it.

The issue is sex is not what either of them _need_. Despite the Queens move like clockwork. She unzips his khaki shorts. He isn't wearing a shirt, so that saves some time. Felicity does most of the work, yanking off her S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and white t-shirt. Her jeans and underwear are quick to follow. For a moment, this is much too reminiscent of a time from Oliver's party boy past. Everything is definitely consensual, but something about just feels off and wrong. They've had countless wonderful times in or out of the bedroom, but right now isn't about passion or making love. Right now Felicity wants to be overwhelmed with physical sensation in order to forget any problems she isn't sharing with him.

"Felicity, you're pregnant and..."

"Oh," She complains, "Stop talking, and fuck me."

And there's the difference. Gone is the tenderness, sweet musings of 'I love you's'. Felicity put his hands to her butt cheeks, and kisses him as if she needs to breathe him in, as if she needs to know he's there with her now. Oliver turns them around abruptly. Felicity's bare scarred back presses against the wall. He thrusts in hard and fast, skin slapping against skin. The heels of her boots digging into his ass slightly painful, but still they go at it.

Oliver can feel it in her touch, the way she clings to him desperately. He can sense changes in tenor from her kisses, almost as if she's checking numbers off a list. A part of her feels lost to him, and he doesn't know why. That's what makes this time so utterly foreign to them. After all, she isn't just some old conquest or a one night stand. Felicity is his wife, damn it, the woman he's in love with more than anyone else this world. Yet still, Felicity craves a physical release, more so than an emotional one. Her heels are anchored to his ass cheeks as she rides Oliver's dick like a dildo instead of the way she would lick her lips and gaze deeply into his eyes. Oliver snaps his hips up, pushing in deeper and harder, a move that makes her groan. Her neck cranes up, hitting the wall, but she so doesn't care. Oliver does it again and again until he hits a spot deep inside of her and she breaks. A string of expletives and pleasured cries echo throughout this cavernous space. Felicity's vision whites out along the edges, heat radiating over every inch of her body. Her walls pulse around him snugly, soon bringing Oliver over the edge himself. The distraction she's desperately looking for lasts only a brief moment. She's a trembling mess in Oliver's arms, though not from her recent orgasm. 

Cradling her in his arms, Oliver insists, "We need to talk and we're going to have a conversation when you're ready."

"Okay."

Not bothering to clean up, Oliver and Felicity rest atop training mats. They're tangled up in each other as well as green and black blankets. Team Arrow's lair remains library-level quiet, so silent someone can hear an arrowhead drop to the floor. A hand sweeps through her messy blonde locks, arm looping around her scarred shoulder. The couple's gazes reconvene, The pain in her eyes shows they're not out of the woods. 

"I'm here."

Her breath ghosts over his lips, "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yes, and I love you too."

As if Felicity is reading his mind, though at this point in their relationship she might as well be, "But we shouldn't have done what we did. Don't get me wrong, the sex was fine."

"You're not though." He surmises. "And in fairness, it takes two to tango, I should've been more persistent in talking first, but we're here now."

Felicity's leg drapes over Oliver's. She cuddles further against his side. He takes Felicity's hand, playing with her fingertips. They look up at the unflattering glow of florescent light. Another breath ebbs away from him, yet they can't be any closer.

"My mom has breast cancer," she finally admits all out of tears, but worry still looms over her like a dark cloud.

Oliver reminds, "Your mom is strong, and that, my love, you get from her. How bad...?"

"Stage 2, so they're a few treatment options left, but I-I can't."

"You're not going to lose her. Do Quentin and Donna know that we can help with whatever medical expenses they need?"

"I told them that." Felicity replies, "But you know my mama's a stubborn piece of work."

"Uh-huh," he teases lovingly, "Just like her daughter."

That sentiment earns a hard pinch to his side.

"You deserved that, mister."

"Yeah, I did." Her husband concurs, noting, "At least it got you to smile a little bit."

Her lips curl into his scarred skin, a minute expression, but it's there.

"Oliver?"

With an eye open, he says, "Yeah."

"I'm really scared," she says, no louder than a whisper.

"It's alright to not be okay, and I'm right here whenever you or you mom need me."

Pitch rising, Felicity gulps, "Worse case scenario, how can I raise this baby without her?"

"Worse case scenario, we're a team, you and I. We always have been, and we always will be, no matter what happens. But your mom can beat this thing. From what you've told me, she's taken down tougher drunken idiots in Vegas."

Rolling her eyes, his wife mentions, "This isn't some some ass-grabbing customer at a bar. It's a real-life medical issue where..."

"Treatments are available," he finishes.

"Yeah, yeah. I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but for once you're right. I have to think positive, and say 'Fuck you, cancer. You ain't messing with my mama'."

"There you go."

Despite Donna and Quentin's initial reservations, Oliver and Felicity do manage to convince them to pay for chemo and radiation treatment in Central City. An old colleague of Henry Allen's, Dr. Karen Milgrom, is one the most renowned oncologists on the West Coast. To say, these last few months are easy would be a gross understatement. Donna's not responding to chemo as well as her team would like, chemo and radiation are combating existing cancer cells, although new ones are rapidly regenerating in her lymph nodes. Aggressiveness of such treatments and what's known as "Red Devil", an intense chemotherapy administration really takes energy away from Donna. However, the three part ACT (Adriamycin, Cytoxan, and Taxol) regimen is effective on her cancer over four days, but horrendous on her heart.The next month is no cakewalk, yet Donna appears to be in better spirits. She's even allowed to break away for an hour to go shopping in the town's square.

Plopping on a wavy neon pink wig, Donna strikes a pose, "Too much?"

"It definitely screams, you, mom." Felicity laughs, caressing the swell of her growing belly, "What about that one?"

* * *

 Donna sticks a bright purple bobbed wig on her daughter's head. They take silly selfies and text the photos to Oliver and Quentin. That moment is perfect until Donna has to back to the hospital after dizziness from a lack of appetite. By the time, Oliver and Felicity are ready to find out the gender of Baby Queen, Donna's blood platelets are steady, and Dr. Milgrom mentions the Lances may be able to continue care at home, at least until it's time for another round of meds.

Felicity's draped in a light blue paper gown, and Oliver steps behind the exam table. Her tablet rings as Felicity's OBGYN, Dr. Beverly Grieg, passes over her belly with an ultrasound wand.

"Oh, it's your mom." Oliver states, carefully digging out his wife's beloved tablet from her black hole of a purse, "Dr. Grieg, do you mind, if we video chat?"

"Yeah." Her patient hopes, "My mom's going to be so excited."

Dr. Grieg obliges, "A little unorthodox, but considering the situation, I'll allow it. The more, the merrier."

A few rings and a beep later, the Queens see nothing but pitch black on their end.

"Quentin, get your thumb off the camera lens." His son-in-law scoffs, boasting proudly, "even I know that one."

"Alright," Quentin pulls back, smiling for the first time in months, "Donna has great news."

In typical Donna Smoak, now Lance, fashion, she squeals, "I get to go home. Well, for a week at least."

"That's wonderful, mom."

"Okay." Dr. Grieg interrupts, "Would you all like the sex of Baby Queen?"

"Yes," confirm Oliver and Felicity.

"It's a boy."

* * *

 Over the course of next month, Donna grows weary She doesn't even have the energy to play with their kitten, Garfield. The waves of nausea are horrendous. Even when she drinks water, her mouth sores make something so essential rather painful. It's such a happy time for her son-in-law and daughter and son-in-law, but her body is constantly being put through the ringer.

"He's kicking so much lately." Felicity beams, following her son's movement with a palm.

Groggily, Donna acknowledges, "Mm... Looks like you've got another little superhero on your hands."

"Well, now," Oliver interjects, fingertips resting in between his wife's. "I don't know about that. This little guy's a long ways off."

"I really wish I was there." Donna frowns, eyes blinking open and closed.

"You look like you could use rest. Love you."

Smooching a swatch on her bandanna, Quentin pulls Donna's blanket up, "She's already out, so we're going to call it a night. Bye."

Their screens fade to black. Oliver retreats back to the kitchen, preparing a special first Mother's Day dinner for Felicity. She ventures over to their nursery, which is pretty much finished except for a mobile and diaper genie. The expectant mother digs through a narrow closet, finding a cardboard box simply labeled _Felicity's first year (1989)._ The container holds precious memories in Felicity's baby book. Her eyes delight in each little written first event and photo. Then she comes across a weathered, slightly torn photo of Donna on her own very first Mother's Day. She was just starting her third trimester, and her brilliant little girl would be born in just over two short months. Felicity sits on the white carpeted floor, staring at the Polaroid. Her round face scrunches. Her chest tightens, and finally emotion overtakes everything. Her shoulders jostle with sobs. Oliver bounds the stairs, calling out her name three times before he discovers she's in their son's room.

"Hey," He says gently, scooping her in his arms and carrying Felicity over to the rocking chair, "Are you and Robbie alright?"

She curls her body against his firm chest while he rocks the chair slowly. Uneven breaths are right by his ear as he notices tears falling to the crook of his neck.

"Robbie's fine." His wife promises, confessing, "But, Oliver, it's killing me that I can't be there with her."

"I know, Felicity. I know, but Dr. Grieg advised us against it."

"Because we can't risk the baby being exposed to radiation, I get that. It's just the situation is filled with a whole lot of suck."

"You don't hear me disagreeing, do you?" Oliver notes, massaging the small of her back. "We can Skype with your mom whenever she's up for it."

"It's not the same, Honey. It's Mother's day, and I'm spending without her."

He offers, smiling broadly, "Well, then we'll do a belated celebration when she's home safe and sound."

"Promise me?" Hope lingers in her stare.

"Mmhm. I promise."

Her lips tick up at ease, "You know I complain about my mom a lot, but she was damn, _sorry, Robbie_ , darn good with hospitals and sick."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Felicity recalls, wiping smudged mascara on her sleeve, "She'd always be right there, holding my hand. Granted, my mom isn't the best singer, but _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ was the best distraction when I had to get a shot, And, now I can't do the same for her. When I was a little girl, my mom stayed, and that matters to me more than you can ever know. What kind of daughter am I to..?"

"The kind who loves her mother so much that she would do anything for her, but can't right now because she's become an amazing mom herself."

His wife declares, "I want to be there for her. I have to."

"You will," says her husband, holding two of his favorite people.

Despite tough times, video chat is helpful when it boils down to bridging that connection among family members. Donna wakes up from a long nap, eating a bland grilled chicken with verdant and crisp vegetables. They chat for a bit over Mother's Day dinner after Oliver and Felicity Skype with Samantha, William, and her husband Christopher. It's really nice, but Oliver can tell that Felicity is still hurting about aspects of life out of her control.

* * *

 Continued treatments combat cancer cells in her lymph nodes. However, there's still a chance, a very slight possibility that cancer can easily return in her breast tissue. Regardless of their best efforts, Donna decides to have a double mastectomy when Felicity is nearly ready to pop. A few days after Donna is free from that nagging ICU, she's in her own private recovery room with Quentin's head resting at her feet. Sun darts through vertical blinds, waking the Lances ever so slightly.

"We ready?" Felicity whispers to her husband, rubbing her newborn's back.

Oliver winks, "Yup."

A male nurse wheels the Queens into Donna's recovery room.

Upon hearing a loud squeak, Quentin nudges, "Donna, sweetheart, wake up."

"Not now, Hon." Donna grumbles, feeling resistance from her IV line as she tries to get comfortable. "We probably won't be doing that for awhile."

"Ha! Robbie. That's your bubbe for you."

"Robbie!" She exclaims with one eye open. "He's here, but you weren't due for another week?"

Oliver shrugs, "We guess someone was in a hurry to meet his bubbe and Pop Pop."

Donna loves pepping her grandson's chubby arms with small smooches. This moment right here is exactly the one Felicity is waiting for. This time together is nothing but utter bliss as the sun rises in Central City. To say, Donna makes some sort of miraculous recovery after the double mastectomy would be a lie. Her health has its ups and downs, especially after a major breast reconstruction a year and a half later. Though thankfully, she's with her family for a very long time.  

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
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